


something to fight for.

by dojimasqueen



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, also she dreams of Joel a lot, ellie works on herself and finds something to fight for pass it on, major character death is the one that happened in game dont worry, she’s a broken woman, this game made me big sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25029847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dojimasqueen/pseuds/dojimasqueen
Summary: SPOILERS FOR TLOU2!ellie lost it all when she left for santa barbara. her ptsd has manifested in new ways, and she often dreams of joel. when he urges her to keep finding something to fight for, she thinks of dina and their son. she returns to jackson, hoping that dina will give her the second chance she doesn’t believe she deserves.
Relationships: Dina & Ellie (The Last of Us), Dina/Ellie (The Last of Us), Ellie & Joel (The Last of Us)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 173





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i finished tlou2 not too long ago and was blown away. ellie/dina is the first lesbian relationship i have come to love, and i was devastated that my gay daughters did not get the ending they deserved. im here to (hopefully) fix it for some of you. enjoy.
> 
> also, i listened to mine would be you by blake shelton while writing this.

There are times that her mind urges her to turn back.

Her legs carry her across state lines, feet sliding in the mud due to the lack of traction on her canvas shoes. When she falls, she picks herself back up, sparing a glance over her shoulder at the land behind her. It calls to her, the subtle changes in scenery as she strays further and further away from Santa Barbara. If her tracking skills are to be trusted, she should be in the heart of Utah, six days away from her destination. The fingers that remain on her left hand encircle her right wrist, fingertips gliding over bare skin. The luck she had been gifted back in Seattle had been left atop the nightstand at her side of the bed, a token of apology. What her girlfriend—could she still call her that?—had done with it was beyond her, but bringing it along would have been too painful, a constant reminder of a life potentially lost.

_“I don’t plan on dying.”_

_“Well neither did Jesse! Or_ Joel _.”_

She grits her teeth at the memory. The voice haunts her every waking moment, calling her back home, while the name—screams, blood, _death_ —urges her to turn back. She rubs her tired eyes, limbs heavy with exhaustion. Green eyes scan the area, a rundown suburb with boarded up homes and abandoned vehicles. She decides on the one closest to her, walking the perimeter until she discovers a splintered board covering a bedroom window. She unslings her rifle from her shoulder, turning it in her grasp and positioning its butt toward the boarded window. Recklessly, she batters the board, watching as the splinter spreads. The wood gives way, breaking into several pieces, providing her with a makeshift entrance. Any infected in the area would have been alerted to her presence, so she wastes no time slinging her weapon and crawling inside. She lands on her injured side, amongst bits of glass and splinters of wood. A whimper sticks in her throat; the pain blinds her, threatens to pull her under the waters of unconsciousness, and she vomits up the bit of water she’d downed nearly half-an-hour ago. “Fuck,” she gags, “fuck.”

She lies there for a moment, stars dancing across her vision. Her hand shoots for the wound, and she retches once more when her fingers become slick with blood. Her eyes shut. Maybe dying here wouldn’t be so bad. She’s certain everyone thinks she’s dead, anyways.

_“I can’t do this again.”_

“I know you can’t, Dina,” she coughs, allergens from the dusty home tickling her throat. “I’ll be dead soon. You can move on with your life. You and Potato. Just gimme a headstone next to Joel’s.”

“Why you talkin’ like that, kiddo?”

The familiar drawl forces her eyes open. In the corner of the bedroom, seated at the edge of the disheveled bed with a guitar in his lap, is Joel. He strums the strings, twisting the tuning pegs until the note he desires is hit. He smiles at Ellie.

“Oh, good. I died.”

Joel’s dark eyes downcast to the body of his guitar. Idly, he forms chords on the fret board and picks at the strings. The melodic sound fills Ellie with an overwhelming calm. “You see a white light?”

“No.”

“Then you’re not dead.”

Was this Joel’s idea of a sick joke? Of course she’s dead. She has to be.

She lifts her shirt and places her palm against the open wound. When she holds it up to her face, she recognizes blood. Yet she doesn’t retch, doesn’t panic. Not like she normally would.

“You ought to stitch that back up before you _do_ die, though.” Joel’s voice rumbles in his chest. His left hand moves effortlessly across the fret board, right hand strumming the chords as he hums a tune unfamiliar to Ellie. “Reckon that girl o’ yours wouldn’t take you dyin’ in some random house well.”

“She isn’t my _girl_ ,” grumbles Ellie, sadness thick in her voice. She pulls herself off of the ground, clutching her side, and sits with her back against the wall. For awhile, she listens to Joel’s humming and the twang of the guitar’s strings. It takes her back to simpler times. “Not anymore.”

The humming continues, and Ellie is certain Joel is ignoring her. He falls into the second verse of the song, mumbling a word here and there. When he finally speaks, he strums the song’s chords on a loop. “She’d be stupid to let you go.”

Ellie scoffs. The night of the dance, the night before he... Joel had told her that Dina would be lucky to have her. In truth, Ellie was lucky to have Dina. Ultimately, she’d turned her back on both her and their son for a revenge she couldn’t see through. “No, she wouldn’t. You’re stupid for even saying that.”

“Am I?” Joel grins and shakes his head. The chords he strums changes, and Ellie recognizes it as what she believes to be nearing the end of the song. Joel’s humming continues, and Ellie is content to close her eyes and listen. If she ignores the searing pain in her side, the blood soaking through her shirt, she’s fourteen, again, sitting beside him on his porch as he fingers the steel strings. She mimics the positions of his left hand on her own fretboard, strumming along just as he taught her. He lets her steal a sip of his beer, laughing his ass off as she scrunches her face at the taste. She tells him that the alcohol tastes like cat piss, to which he laughs harder and asks her how in the hell she knows what cat piss tastes like. He fetches her a glass of apple juice, and they continue their lesson of intermediate chords through the night.

The soft twang of the strings fades into the night air. There is a brief squeak as Joel’s fingers glide across the fretboard. Ellie opens her eyes to find him staring at her.

“What?”

“What do you mean, what?” Joel leans on the body of his guitar. “You look like shit, kiddo.”

“Oh, like you look any better.”

“You’re skinny,” he shakes his head. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“What’s it matter?”

“Dammit, Ellie—” he grits his teeth. Ellie flinches. She recognizes his anger, his frustration... “It _matters_. You got folks back home—”

“I don’t have _shit_ back home, Joel!” She yells, but her voice catches in her throat halfway through. She swallows a bit of saliva, hoping to rid herself of the hoarseness, the dryness, the awful taste her vomit has left behind. She furrows her brow, scrunches her nose, hopes she looks as intimidating as she once had. “I probably don’t even have a home to come back to.”

“Jackson—”

“Fuck Jackson!” The muscles in her abdomen clench as her anger builds. A pain shoots through her core and she cries out, clutching her side. “Fuck Jackson...” she pants. “You think anyone there is gonna wanna see me after what I did?”

Tommy wanted to avenge his brother. Dina wanted her love to stay.

She’d failed them both.

She hunches forward, gripping her side for dear life. She’s not dead, yet, according to Joel, but she’s close if this hallucination is anything to go by.

“Why are you even here?” Through her lashes, she looks at him. He runs a hand through his shaggy hair and scratches at his hairy cheek. If she focuses enough, Joel’s scent—bitter coffee, pine needles, carved wood—floods her sense of smell. She wonders if that scent still lingers in his home. “You won’t let me die, so what the _fuck_ do you want?”

“I don’t want you wastin’ your life,” he sighs.

“I already wasted it,” Ellie murmurs, curling the remaining fingers of her mutilated hand in to a sad excuse of a fist. “I couldn’t kill Abby. I had two chances to kill her and I wasted them both. I’m _alone_ , Joel. You and Jesse are dead. Dina hates me. JJ is gonna grow up not knowing who the _fuck_ I am.” Her voice is meek, incredibly uncharacteristic of Ellie Williams. She is defeated, drained, _dying_. With what she’s lost, what was left to fight for? “You know I don’t want to be alone, but I’m alone, now. I’m _fucking_ alone. What the _fuck_ is left for me?”

A sliver of silence is all Joel allows to settle between them. Without missing a beat, he echoes words spoken several years ago: “No matter what, you keep findin’ somethin’ to fight for.”

“There’s nothing left.”

“Bullshit.” He sets the guitar down beside him and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “You and I both know that’s _bullshit_. Me and Jesse may be gone, but what about that kid? Or your girl? Maria? _Hell_ , Tommy may be as stubborn as a bull, but you know damn well he regrets comin’ to your house with that revenge shit.”

“Tommy’ll want my head on a stick when he finds out I let Abby go.”

“Tommy will get over it if he hasn’t already,” Joel assures. “And if I know anything about Dina, I’m _certain_ she isn’t letting him forget breakin’ up her family so easily.”

That’s if Dina still _cares_. Ellie can recall the anger, the _disgust_ in her girlfriend’s eyes after Tommy had ridden back to Jackson. She’d taken their son back in her arms and collapsed against Ellie, mumbling how she never wanted to see him again into her shoulder. Ellie’s thoughts had ceased to form in that moment, her eyes wandering to the map left behind on the kitchen table, her arms wrapped protectively around her girlfriend. They were done with the hunt for Abby, had been for a little over a year, and yet Ellie had selfishly packed the map away and turned her back on the family her and Dina had begun. All to kill someone that had let her live. Twice.

“I told her once that I didn’t want to lose her,” Ellie mutters beneath her breath. She leans her weight against the peeling wall. “But I did. I left her and our son. I lost them both, Joel. And for what? Because I thought that killing Abby would stop the panic attacks? Maybe let me start eating, again? Sleeping?” How often had she woke in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and screaming? Dina would take her into her arms, tucking stray hairs behind her ear and whispering for her to breathe, to focus on the sound of her voice. It hadn’t been fair of Ellie to subject Dina and JJ to her attacks. They both deserved someone whole.

Ellie was broken from the start.

Joel shakes his head, the creases of his brow exaggerated as he frowns. “Oh, baby girl.”

What she wouldn’t give to rush into Joel’s arms right about now. His flannel shirt would be clutched in her hands, face buried in his chest. His scent would ground her, as would his strong arms wrapping around her. He’d pat her head, assure her things were going to be alright, and her tears would stain his shirt. He’d mumble a joke or two to get her to laugh, and she would playfully tell him that he sucks. And as she pulled away, he’d look into her eyes and instruct her to continue her fight—to find Dina and their son and make things _right_.

Ellie grits her teeth.

Joel straightens his posture.

“Fuck, Joel,” she laughs. “You’re fucking _dead_ and somehow you’re still helping me. What the fuck?”

He gives a lazy shrug. “God works in mysterious ways, I s’pose.”

Ellie can’t help but to indulge him. “Maybe.”

“Go get her, kiddo,” he smiles, and Ellie’s vision goes black.

~*~

She wakes with a start, blood dried and crusty in the palm of her hand. Her open wound aches, and the fabric of her shirt sticks to the area, glued to her skin by blood and sweat. There’s no light illuminating the bedroom, telling her that she’s been out for at least a few hours. She struggles to pick herself up off of the ground, hand shooting to her wound instinctively. She hisses as the skin pulls, dried blood breaking apart. Her eyes scan the bedroom—the _bed_ , specifically, where Joel had sat. There was no sign of him, and Ellie guesses that she had fallen into a fever dream.

She feels nauseous. Maybe it isn’t the healthiest thing to talk to a dead person in one’s dreams, but if this was how she would stay connected to Joel, she would take what she could get.

She walks forward and sets her backpack on the bed. She unzips it and digs out a sewing needle and some thread she’d snagged from the farmhouse weeks earlier. The objects remind her of Dina, stitching up the holes Ellie had managed to put in her clothes by catching them in barbed wire. She pushes the memory from her mind and threads the needle. Then, she gets to work.

It’s a botched job. She’s forced to remove the previous stitch work, accidentally stabbing her open flesh with a jagged fingernail. The new stitches are anything but pretty, and the scar will be jagged and large, but it gets the job done.

“Okay,” she breathes, returning the spool and needle to her bag. She retrieved her journal and pencil from the mess within and opens to a blank page. Assisted by minimal moonlight, Ellie sketches a woman and a baby boy. Beneath it, she scribbles the words _something to fight for_.

She shoves the journal and pencil back into her bag and secures the straps around her shoulders. She scours the home for supplies, crafting various tools while she has the opportunity, and ventures into the dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ellie returns to the farm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> didn't expect to get as many hits or kudos as i did when i first published this. thanks to all of those who have read, and are continuing to follow the story! feel free to leave a comment--i love reading them! also, don't kill me for the slow-burn happening here. it was intended, but that's what's happening. whoops. dina should make an appearance in the next chapter. if all goes as planned. hopefully.

A six-day journey had turned into fourteen.

The traps Dina had taught Ellie to craft back in Seattle had proven useful. Her appetite, however, had yet to return. The first rabbit she had caught the morning after leaving the suburban neighborhood managed to last her three days. Her fingers ripped bits of fur from the cooked carcass, yet the smell had overwhelmed her. She fought to keep what little had been in her stomach down. Water, bits of meat, and a handful of blueberries had been ejected from her stomach. She’d tossed the last of the rabbit near a river, tied together a trap, and set it. As she waited, she scribbled away in her journal, documenting the day’s events and her current thoughts.

_The rabbit made my backpack reek. Thinking of dunking it in the river to rid of the smell. Can’t help thinking of Dina whenever I set my traps. It’s been nearly two months since I left. Is she even at the farm, anymore? Dina can handle her own, but she has Potato to worry about…_

She quickly sketches a portrait of JJ. Would he still look the same? Babies grow at such a fast rate… Would he even _remember_ her?

_I’ll check the farm. Maybe, by some chance, she’s still there. If not, she’s in Jackson with Robin and Natalie. No way would she take Potato away from his grandparents._

_~~I miss you both so much~~_ _._

Lost in her thoughts, memories of happier times with her family, Ellie had missed the cry of the trapped hare. When she’d gone to investigate, she’d discovered a blood trail leading to a ravenous wolf. Rather than piss it off, Ellie surrendered her game to the beast, grumbling obscenities beneath her breath. It was a day-and-a-half later when she’d caught another rabbit.

Now, in the familiar territory of Wyoming, Ellie kneels beside a creek. She cups her hands and splashes water on her face, scrubbing away the dirt and dried blood accumulated from her journey. The water settles, and Ellie stares at her reflection; her cheeks have begun to sink in from weight loss, and the circles beneath her eyes are darker than she’s ever known. There’s a scrape on her forehead from a low-hanging branch that caught her skin two days ago, and a fresh scar or two from her tussle with the Rattlers and Abby. She wonders if Dina would recognize the woman she has become—she can barely recognize herself.

She runs her fingers through her hair, tugging at the tangles. She craves a hot bath, having only bathed in questionable river water over the past month. When she reaches the house, perhaps...

She stands, flicking her wrists to dry her hands. Their house— _Dina’s_ house, is but a two-minute walk from here. Her legs move on their own, pace quickening as the structure comes into view. She clutches the straps of her backpack for dear life, ignoring the phantom pains of her missing digits, ignoring the dull ache in her side and the obvious limp she now walks with from a swift kick by Abby. She can think of nothing other than the family she left behind—Dina’s warm hugs and soft kisses to her cheek when Ellie arrived home from hunting; JJ’s toothy grin when his other mother came into view, and the giggles he would emit when she would pick him up and tickle his belly.

She sets her bag on the porch, right hand taking the doorknob in its grip. With a deep breath, Ellie turns the knob and pulls the door open. Memories flash before her eyes—of Dina calling to her from the kitchen; of Dina seated on the sofa with JJ in her lap; of Dina appearing as if from no where and grabbing Ellie by the waist, lips crashing against hers as she pulls her inside and informs her that their son is napping.

She is met with an empty home, no traces of their life together in sight.

Pain shoots through her wounded abdomen. Her good hand clutches at it. She keels over in the entryway, scraping her chin on the old wooden floor, her left hand too weak to support her weight. Dina had warned her that her actions would not come without consequence, and, yet, Ellie had chosen to leave her family behind. She had given Dina the choice to wait for her, and Dina had chosen to pack up and leave. Had she waited for Ellie at all? Or had she made arrangements the following day after crying herself to sleep, clutching their son for dear life? Perhaps, Ellie would never know the answer.

She forces herself to stand, head swimming, abdomen throbbing, and what little food she had eaten that day threatening to evacuate her stomach. She ghosts through each room, unlocking memories of Dina and JJ in every one. They would dance in the kitchen and eat at the table; sit on the sofa with their son in Dina’s lap while Ellie read him a book; bathe him in the bathtub after being around the animals all day; sit on the floor while Ellie strummed her guitar and sang them a song, Dina’s eyes full of love and JJ’s full of wonder. Her fingertips glide against the railing as she awkwardly climbs the stairs. She enters the bathroom first, where she and Dina would share a tub on occasion, and where Ellie would point to JJ’s reflection in the mirror as he clapped his hands together. She enters her studio, next, to discover her belongings within, save for the portrait she had painted of Dina. It would be illogical for Dina to have packed Ellie’s belongings away, to bring them with her wherever she resided in Jackson. The memories would be too painful... so why had the portrait come up missing?

She doesn’t dwell on the question for long, fearing she would never find an answer.

Hesitantly, she moves to the bedroom. A shirt of Ellie’s remains hung on a hook, while fresh sheets sit stacked at the end of the bed. Her fingers skirt across the mattress, her eyes downcast as more memories play in her head. Their best memories were held her, she believes. Nights spent entangled with her love, Ellie’s bare breasts pressed against Dina’s back as she peppered kisses along her neck; they would hold each other every night, playfully banter into the early hours, and marvel at their baby boy as he slept between them. It was here Ellie would awake screaming, startling JJ in his crib. Dina would hold Ellie until she calmed, urging her to breath, to press her ear to her chest and listen to the beating of her heart. She would calm JJ, then, setting him in his mother’s arms as a form of comfort, while Ellie rested her head against Dina’s shoulder, letting her little spud suck on her index finger as she apologized profusely for her sudden outburst.

The pain in Ellie’s abdomen seems to spread across her body, lighting every nerve aflame. She crawls onto the bed and curls up, wrapping her arms around her legs and closing her eyes. The tears fall silently as she drifts off to sleep.

~*~

She wakes to the sound of footsteps.

Instinctively, Ellie sits up and grabs for the gun holstered at her waist. She cocks it and aims it at the doorway.

“Don’t you fucking move!” she yells at the man with his hands in the air. He’s winded, struggling to stand on a bad leg, and seems to have difficulty viewing out of his right eye. He’s talking back to her, telling her to lower her gun, that it’s just _him_. As the fear washes away and Ellie’s ears cease their ringing, she recognizes the man before her. “Tommy?”

“Jesus, Ellie,” he pants. “Lower that damned thing and let me see you.”

Her finger moves away from the trigger, arm slowly lowering the pistol. She sets it atop the bed before lurching forward and colliding with the younger Miller brother. He stumbles backward, bad leg threatening to collapse beneath him, and Ellie wraps her arms tightly around his waist. He smells opposite of Joel—whiskey, dirt, and the lingering stench of the horse stables—but it’s calming for the young woman. She sighs when Tommy returns her embrace.

“Let me get a good look at you, kid.” Gently, Tommy pushes Ellie back by her shoulders. She stands there, awkward and vulnerable, as his eyes examine every inch of her body. He doesn’t linger long on the small cuts and scrapes that litter her face; instead, he hisses at the sight of blood that has soaked through her shirt, dried and flaking. He purses his lips, nodding to himself. He discovers her mutilated hand, next. “Ah, fuck,” tumbles from his mouth, and Ellie moves to hide her hand behind her back. Her gaze averts to the floor. Tommy rubs at his mouth with the palm of his hand.

The silence lasts for an eternity in Ellie’s mind. The last time she had seen Tommy had been the day he’d come to the farmhouse with a lead, repeating the words she had uttered but a year prior. The guilt had been too much to bear—the panic attacks worsened, and her body had all but whittled away, stomach unable to keep down any of the food Dina had to offer. She would never forgive herself had she hurt either Dina or their son during one of her episodes, fueling the fire Tommy had started beneath her feet. The easy thing to do would be to place the blame upon him, to yell at him and insist that he was the reason she had lost her family. A lesser person would spit in his face, push him away, but Ellie has always taken responsibility for her actions. Besides, Joel would not place blame upon his younger brother. He would yell, he would scream, he would threaten never to talk to him again... but, at the end of the day, he would realize that Ellie was her own person, capable of making her own decisions. He would apologize, maybe even buy Tommy a drink at the Tipsy Bison.

And he would scold Ellie for putting herself in harms way.

“I shouldn’t’ve...” Tommy struggles to finish his sentence. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair and grits his teeth. “Dina’s mighty pissed with me, y’know.”

Ellie shrugs her shoulders. “Pretty sure her anger towards me outweighs that.”

He doesn’t respond. Ellie is sure it’s for her own sake.

“What are you even doing out here, anyway?” Her eyes roam Tommy’s body. He’s the same as he was a month-and-a-half ago. What the hell was he doing so far from Jackson? “Did Dina forget something? You trying to get back on her good side?”

“Sorta,” he shrugs. “I’ve been comin’ out here nearly every day since Dina showed up in Jackson with that baby o’ yours. Thought about helpin’ her move. Almost took off to bring you home. My leg is in no shape for such a long ride, neither is it in shape to pick up boxes. So, I decided to visit the farm every so often, just in case you got smart and came back.”

She frowns. How difficult must it have been for Tommy to come back to the farm, day after day, only to find no trace of her? Did Dina know what he was up to? Did she hold out hope when he would venture out of Jackson’s walls atop his horse? Did pieces of her shattered heart break off when he came back alone?

Tommy flashes a toothy grin. “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw your backpack on the porch. Knew you’d be in here somewhere. Guess today was my lucky day.”

“So, you’re taking me back, then?”

“You wanna go back?”

There was no use staying here, where memories were around every corner. And there was no use wandering the wilderness, her fear of being alone becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy. She could run, sure, return to the beauty that was California and start anew; but she could never outrun the memories of those she had lost. Joel would chastise her in her dreams; Jesse would never forgive her for truly abandoning his son and giving up completely on the love of her life; Dina would be forced to face the fact that Ellie was never returning; and JJ would grow up not knowing who she was.

“I have a feeling you’re gonna make me even if I say no.”

“Good thing I don’t see you sayin’ no.” He knows Ellie far too well. She may have left her family in seek of revenge, but she always planned to return. “‘Sides—need t’ get you to the medic. Your stitch work was never the greatest.”

“Shut up,” she waves her hand at him, taking the lead as they exit the bedroom. She does her best not to observe her surroundings as they make for the front door, keeping her head down and her eyes on the wood flooring. She grabs her backpack and slings it over her shoulder, patting Tommy’s mare on the nose. He closes the door behind him and hobbles to his horse. Ellie offers him a hand, but he denies it, insisting he can do it, himself. He steps into the stirrup with his good leg and swings his bad one over the mare’s body. He takes the reins in his hands as he settles into the saddle and pats the mare’s head.

“Yeah, you’re a good girl, Epona.”

“Epona?” Ellie asks, hopping into the saddle and grabbing loose hold of Tommy’s waist. “Like the Celtic goddess?”

“Nah,” Tommy shakes his head. He guides the horse away from the house, driving his heel into her side as the venture away from it. She picks up the pace, galloping across the brush as they make the fifteen-minute trek back to Jackson. “Epona, like a horse in this video game I played as a kid.”

Ellie chuckles. “That’s... really lame, Tommy.”

“I know.”

The majority of their trip is done in silence. Ellie knows the route well enough, having taken it multiple times with Dina and JJ to visit Jesse’s parents and stock up on supplies. The shrubbery blurs together, Ellie’s vision going out of focus as she zones out. She can’t help but wonder if returning to Jackson is even a good idea. She expects a lecture from Maria, stares and hushed voices from the townsfolk as she wanders the streets. Would Dina want to see her? Would she blame her if she didn’t?

“—jus’ wanted t’ say that I’m sorry, kid.”

Tommy’s mumbling pulls her out of her thoughts, though she catches only the end of what she imagines to be a long rambling. She catches him rubbing at her jaw, fingertips running through his longer beard. Ellie furrows her brow. “Sorry, what were you saying? I spaced out.”

She can spot the walls of Jackson in the distance. Her heart begins to race, ears ringing. Her fight or flight instinct has activated, and rather than face the music, Ellie feels a strong urge to leap off of Tommy’s horse and run.

However, she stays glued to the saddle.

“I wanted to talk t’ you about that day, back at the farm. It was totally uncalled for an’ I—”

“Save it, Tommy,” though her words aren’t the nicest, her tone is anything but. She won’t let Tommy apologize for something she ultimately decided to do. “I don’t want to hear any bullshit about how sorry you are for breaking up my family or whatever.” The stumps on her hand begin to throb. She wraps her other hand around it protectively. “I’m the one who ran off to California. I’m the one who left when Dina begged me to stay.”

Silence falls over them, again, and Ellie allows it to envelop her like a warm blanket, dried in the afternoon sun. She can feel the tension building, can all but hear the question burning in his throat like stomach acid. Unspoken words echo in her ears, bouncing around within her skull. She chest burns, her hand aches, and the wound at her side stings. She feels as though she could vomit.

“Did you—”

“No.” She answers before he can finish the question.

Tommy’s jaw clenches. Ellie can feel the acid from her stomach creep up her throat, burning the sensitive tissues. The atmosphere between her and Tommy sours. She swallows. Tommy’s knuckles whiten.

“Tommy’s back!” A masculine voice calls from the watchtower, and Ellie has never been happier to see the gates of Jackson in her life. “Open the gates!”

Epona trots into Jackson, and, at the sight of the young woman in tow, a crowd begins to gather. Most of those around her shoot her smiles and waves, her name escaping some mouths out of excitement. Ellie tried to force a smile, but her face remains blank.

Tommy hops off of Epona and hands the reins to a young man Ellie recognizes from patrols. “Take the girl to the medic. She’s got several injuries.”

As Ellie hops off of the mare, she watches Tommy’s back as he limps toward the bar.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ellie gets patched up and thinks of how to approach dina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this chapter is longer than expected! there is a scene in here that was added after completion because ya girl forgot a key plot point in the second chapter. it’s fine though it works. 
> 
> thanks to all who are reading and enjoying the story! the kudos and comments make me smile. hope to see more!

Liam, she recalls his name, offers her his arm, noticing her limp on the small journey to the clinic. Ellie rolls her eyes and continues on, quickening her pace. She didn’t need an escort—she knows where the clinic is. But Tommy’s orders were Tommy’s orders, and it wasn’t often people went against them.

The young man’s taller frame allows him to catch up with Ellie in a matter of seconds. She groans. “I can get to the clinic myself, Liam.”

“Tommy’s orders,” he shrugs, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

A silence falls over them, one Ellie is thankful for. Her eyes scan her surroundings—the clinic is but a few feet away, purposefully close to the main gates for easy access by those returning from patrol. She can feels eyes on her, judgmental gazes of people she once knew. She wonders if Dina is amongst them, clutching JJ to her chest and spitting at her presence. Ellie’s remaining fingers wrap around her right wrist. She wants to run for the clinic, leave her stupid escort behind, and hide from the Jackson residents. Her bruised leg and throbbing abdominal wound kept her in check. She rubs her nose and sniffles.

“You plan on seeing Dina while you’re here?”

Liam’s inquiry nearly stops her dead in her tracks. What right did he have to ask that? What business of his was it, anyway? He had never been but acquaintances with her and Dina. Did he feel some sort of protective instinct over her because he had been one of Jesse’s friends? Or was he one of many Ellie assumed had offered Dina a shoulder to cry on when she returned to Jackson, baby in tow with anger in her eyes? She grabs for her wrist, again, longing for the peace it once brought her.

“None of your business,” she grumbles, quickening her pace once more. She can hear Liam’s heavy footsteps—something that always got him in trouble on patrols—behind her. She doesn’t look behind her, doesn’t pay him any mind. Instead, she all but sprints to the clinic doors, forcing her way through as though a pack of Runners were at her heels. She craves isolation, but her partially healed wounds cry for help. A sigh escapes her as she clutches her abdomen.

“Williams?” a familiar voice calls from behind the desk. “Ellie Williams, is that you?”

Ellie’s green eyes find those of an older woman, hair white as snow, face wrinkled from age. She gapes at the young woman in shock.

“Hey, Doc,” Ellie sheepishly raises her mutilated hand in greeting. “Think you can patch me up?”

The elder woman blinks. Ellie, self-conscious, lets her hand fall to her side. Before she knows what’s happening, the head medic ushers Ellie into a room. She closes the door behind them and Ellie reluctantly sits on the edge of the cot.

“Honestly, Ellie,” the old woman utters in disapproval, “I won’t lecture you—Maria will see to that—but you up and disappear for two months just to return half-dead?”

“I’m not half-dead, Joan.”

“We’ll see what your wounds have to say about that. Come on—let’s see ‘em.”

Reluctantly, Ellie grips the fabric at her upper back and pulls the tank-top over her head. She hisses as the fabric tears away from the congealed blood at her side. Joan is helpful enough to take the soiled shirt from her and toss it in the trash. She instructs Ellie to lie down, and gently examines the shoddy stitching. Ellie inhales deeply, staring up at the buzzing light overhead. She winces when she feels Joan removing her stitch work.

“You never were good at this,” Joan shakes her head. “You’ve got a slight infection going on, too. What happened?”

“Tree branch.”

Joan echoes Ellie’s answer, annoyance heavy in her tone. “Someone attack you with this tree branch?”

Ellie shrugs. She would rather not discuss this. Not right now. “Not purposely. I mean, I got caught in a trap. The momentum just kinda made me hit the branch.”

Silence befalls them. Ellie can hear the clanking of medical tools as Joan prepares to patch her back up. She doesn’t feel the needle enter her skin, nor the tug of the suture as it enters and exits her skin. The sniping of scissors reverberates off of the walls. Joan knots the suture and grabs something from the table beside her. There is a cooling sensation at Ellie’s skin. Joan gently runs her finger along the freshly stitched wound and clicks her tongue.

“Alright, all done.”

Ellie sits up and examines Joan’s work. Her skin is tightly stitched together, no longer threatening to break open at a moment’s notice. She touches the area with the pad of her index finger and rubs the ointment between her fingers.

“I’ll send the bottle home with you,” Joan gestures toward the tube. “You’re lucky that the infection has remained localized. My guess is you got it wet—either sweat or water—recently. The ointment will prevent it from spreading.”

“Thanks.”

Without a word, Joan holds her hand out expectantly. She wishes to examine Ellie’s left hand.

And, without a word, Ellie complies.

She observes Joan as she examines the missing digits. A frown plays at her old features, and Ellie thinks of making a joke. ( _So, guess that means no hope in them growing back?_ ) She bites her tongue.

“Sorry to say I cant do much for these... The wounds have begun closing. Had you gotten medical attention sooner, they would look less jagged.” Joan shrugs. She grabs a bandage roll from a drawer and wraps the mutilated fingers. “Keep these on. Change them when they get dirty. Let them heal on their own.”

“Got it.”

Out of the bottom drawer, Joan produces a plain, oversized, white t-shirt. She hands it, the bandages, and the ointment to Ellie.

“Sorry, but this is all we’ve got. You come see me in about a week, okay? We’ll take those stitches out and make sure everything is healing smoothly.”

Ellie awkwardly shrugs into the oversized shirt. It seems to swallow her whole.

“And try to put on some weight. You look awfully unhealthy.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Joan affectionately rubs Ellie’s knee. “Maria will want to see you, if word has spread.”

“Right.” Ellie nods. “Thanks, Joan.”

~*~

She isn’t certain how long she’s been loitering in front of Maria’s home. The sun has begun setting, a cool breeze settling over the town. She clutches her body, the oversized shirt accentuating her slimmer waistline. She sighs, kicks a rock across the yard, and swallows her pride. No sense in standing around any longer.

She drags herself up the three steps of the deck and stops just short of the front door. Her hand lifts, fingers curled in to a fist. She drums her knuckles rhythmically against the wooden door.

It opens but a moment later.

Maria stands in the doorway, hand on her hip and a disapproving expression on her face.

Ellie struggles to look her in the eye.

“Come on,” her hand grips Ellie’s shoulder, pulling the young woman into her home. “Get inside. No use yelling at you in front of the neighbors.”

Passing through the threshold, Ellie is hit by a wave of emotion. The last time she had been in this house had been with Joel, Jesse, and Dina. Maria had hosted dinner, cooking what Tommy called her famous chicken-fried steak. Patrols had gone well amongst the four of them, prompting Maria to invite them over for a celebratory dinner. She glances at the dining room—Maria and Tommy had sat at the heads, with Joel and Jesse, and Ellie and Dina seated beside one another respectively. Her relationship with Joel had made their interactions limited and awkward, with Ellie only speaking to him when spoken to, and requesting the passage of side-dishes only when necessary. Jesse and Dina had been having one of their frequent lovers quarrels, to which Dina had seized the opportunity to subtly flirt with her best-friend. Her hand had gripped Ellie’s knee beneath the table several times throughout the evening, giggling when Ellie’s cheeks turned pink and her words became jumbled.

Maria seems to notice the young woman’s lingering gaze. “Take a seat in the living room. I’ll grab you a glass of water.”

Ellie swallows. She can see Joel’s smile from across the table in her mind’s eye. He had tried so hard, only for her to shut him down at every turn.

The guilt makes her wounds ache.

She seats herself on the sofa, awkwardly playing with her fingers as she waits for Maria’s return. There’s photos of her and Tommy in several places, despite the break they’re taking from their relationship. It gives Ellie an odd sense of hope regarding her own relationship.

“Okay,” Maria sets two glasses of ice water—one for her and one for Ellie—on the coffee table, and takes a seat in her recliner. She leans forward on her knees, eyes boring into Ellie. “You came back for Dina and JJ, right?”

It’s been so long since she’s had fresh water. Ellie can’t help but grab the glass and gulp down at least half of it. A drop from the corner of her mouth trails down her chin and falls to soak into the fabric of her shirt. She clicks her tongue and sets the glass back down.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t using the water as a way to think of her reply, as well.

Her shoulders rise and fall slowly. She struggles to look Maria in the eye. “I mean, that was the plan.”

Maria nods. “And, what? You’re having second thoughts?”

Ellie offers another shrug.

“For Christ’s sake, Ellie.” Maria shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What was your plan? To barrel into town, get yourself medical treatment, and leave without a word?”

To be frank, she didn’t have a plan. She planned to get her wounds tended to, yes, but after that? She had no clue. Eat a meal, perhaps? Not that she could keep food down. Find Tommy and demand he speak to her? No, he’d be drunk by then. Go on a wild goose chase in search of Dina and their son? Not a bad idea, but what would come after? Would she knock on their door and beg forgiveness?

She buries her face in her hands. “No,” she murmurs into her palms. “No, that isn’t it.”

If Maria notices the missing fingers, she doesn’t say a word.

Ellie lowers her hands and sets them in her lap. She tugs at the fingers of her good hand. “...where is she?”

“Back at that house you two stayed in close to her due-date,” Maria answers. “She was staying with Robin and Natalie, originally, but requested the house about a month ago. Girl probably wants her independence.”

How were things like this so easy for Dina? How could she live in a home with so many memories attached to it? Had she shut out Ellie’s memory completely, or did she lie awake at night, remembering the way her girlfriend had kissed her belly and murmured a goodnight to their unborn son? Did she stand in the kitchen and recall the mornings Ellie would attempt to recreate Joel’s pancake recipe, only to create a mess of batter on herself and the counter?

There is a deafening silence in the house. Ellie stares at her hands, watching the muscles move breath her skin as she flexes her fingers. She can feel Maria’s gaze upon her, yet the older woman stays quiet. She’s giving Ellie the opportunity to gather her thoughts, she thinks, and it’s a courtesy Ellie doesn’t believe she deserves. She grits her teeth, digs her nails into her palms, and closes her eyes.

“Was it worth it?” Maria finally asks.

Ellie isn’t sure how to respond, but words force their way past her lips. “Yes.”

Despite losing her family, the journey to California had lifted the weight of the world off of Ellie’s shoulders. She would have had an unquenchable thirst for vengeance had she stayed in Wyoming. Fighting Abby had allowed her to realize that her death would not bring Joel back, nor would it quell the nightmares and panic attacks she suffered. She would take Abby’s life, leaving the boy in the boat alone, just as Abby had left her—just as Joel had left Abby...

“So, it’s over, then?” Maria clicks her tongue. She brings her cup to her lips and takes a drink. “You got what you and my idiot husband wanted so badly?”

Ellie shakes her head. Maria leans forward, face riddled with confusion.

“Ellie, if this is some stupid joke—”

“I let her go, Maria.” She’s defensive, eyes open, staring straight at Maria. She digs her fingernails further into her skin. “I let her go. Her death... I thought killing her would help me, but I realized that it wouldn’t bring me peace.” She pauses to clear her throat. “Maybe I realized it too late. But what else was I supposed to do? If I hadn’t’ve gone out there and found her, I would have let my anger consume me. I couldn’t put Dina and JJ through that!”

Maria’s chest rises and falls as she breathes in deeply. She drums her fingers against the arm of her chair and observed the young woman before her. Ellie squirms. Maria could make even the toughest person feel as though she had them beneath a microscope. Joel had always joked that Tommy had his hands full with the woman, only to falter beneath her gaze, mumbling yes ma’am to any order she gave.

Finally, the Jackson matriarch hums. “No sense lecturing you over something that’s good and done.” Her brow un-furrows, and she rises to her feet. “I gave Tommy a decent talking to after I’d caught wind that you’d left. Stupid man...” She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. “They feed you over at the clinic?”

Ellie shakes her head. “Not hungry.”

Maria doesn’t press the issue. “Alright, well, make sure you eat something this evening, at least. They’re serving up some soup at the Tipsy Bison. Might be easy for you to keep down.”

Ellie nods. She pushes herself off of the sofa and guzzles down the remainder of her water. Maria takes the glass when she’s finished. “Is my place...”

“Still haven’t filled it, no. Key’s under the rock.”

“Thanks, Maria. Um, do you mind not telling Dina that I’m back? Not today, anyway.”

Maria sets the empty glass on the coffee table and places her hands on her hips. She furrows her brow. “Oh, I won’t. Your return will come from your own lips, but I’m only giving you slack for the rest of the day. You better tell her tomorrow.”

Another nod from Ellie. She scratches awkwardly at her cheek as she makes for the door, turning to look at Maria over her shoulder. She agrees and takes her leave.

~*~

Her fingertips glide over the painted letters on the rusted metal mailbox.

JOEL MILLER.

She observes the home. Once so full of life, the curtains are drawn shut and the lights forever off. Often one could find Joel sipping his early morning coffee on the porch, or strumming away at his guitar in the late nights. The sight makes her heart ache, but Ellie pushes on, proud that she can remember him in happier times.

She enters the backyard through the fence and makes the short trip to the shed. She finds the key hidden between a rock and dirt just as Maria had said, and unlocks the door. She flips a switch and the small shed floods with light. It’s void of any traces of Ellie and her previous life—all that remains is the bed, the sofa, the desk, and the kitchenware.

She carries herself to the sofa and takes a seat. She stares at the empty spot beside her, images of Joel with a smile on his face and a guitar in his lap. She chuckles at the memory of him singing some stupid country song about the boys of Kentucky, promises of playing her the record on his lips. Ellie shakes her head. “Stupid old man. Your taste in music was always so weird.”

“Like yours is any better.”

That voice...

She lifts her eyes and there he stands, leaning against the door to her makeshift home. His arms are crossed and he wears a teasing smile.

“That alternative rock crap you always blast.” Joel pushes himself from the door and shakes his head. “I would always hear that shit comin’ from the backyard on quiet nights like this. Drove me insane.”

Ellie rolls her eyes, her own smile finding its way to her features. “At least that’s shit had meaning behind the lyrics. You say here and sang a song about guys from Kentucky. What the fuck is that?”

“Excuse you, kiddo, but Blake Shelton was a very successful country artist in his day.”

“And Paramore was a very successful alternative rock, punk pop... whatever band in their day,” Ellie quips. “You wouldn’t know good music if it bit you in the ass.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, nodding. “We can agree to disagree, then.” He walks to the sofa, taking his seat on the empty cushion. He scratches his bearded cheek, eyes wandering the small building. “This place sure is empty.”

“Didn’t exactly plan on coming back here.”

Obviously Dina hadn’t, either. She’d left all of Ellie’s belongings at the farmhouse, tucked away for her to discover had she ever returned from seeking her revenge. Maybe she didn’t want her in Jackson, after all. She would have had her things packed and returned here if she had... right?

An arm creeps around her shoulders, and Ellie is pulled toward the broad shoulder of a dead man. She rests her head on his shoulder, comfort immediately washing over her.

“You should just talk to her, kiddo,” Joel’s voice rumbles in his chest. “It ain’t as simple as you may think, fallin’ out of love with someone. You can hate what they did to you with every fiber of your being, but it just don’t work that way. When Sarah’s mom took off, I was heartbroken. Drank myself stupid for a week. Tommy eventually ended up all but bannin’ me from drinkin’. God, I hated what she did. She could leave me, sure, but to abandon your own daughter?” He shakes his head, sadness thick in his voice. “Funny thing is, I couldn’t stop lovin’ her, no matter how hard I tried.”

“Is this supposed to help me feel better?” Ellie chuckles, though she can’t help but to feel an enormous amount of dread. Wasn’t what Ellie did similar to what Sarah’s mom had done?

As if he had read her mind, Joel flicks the side of Ellie’s head. She yowls in pain.

“You and my ex-wife are nothin’ alike, kiddo. She left us with no intention of seein’ us ever again. You, on the other hand, intended to come back to Dina and JJ. You didn’t abandon them.”

Though his reassurance is soothing, Ellie can’t help the tears that fall down her face. Joel pulls her closer, smoothing the hair atop her head, whispering that she was okay. Her arms wrap around his large frame, and she buries her nose in the fabric of his shirt.

It was strange how, even in her dreams, Joel still smelled like Joel.

~*~

She wakes after the sun has set, clutching a pillow.

She tosses the pillow aside and yawns, stretching her arms above her head. The simply action stretches her skin, and Ellie hisses. She ignores the stinging at her side, reaching for the backpack she’d abandoned beside the coffee table. She unzips it and removes a familiar object from within—Ollie.

When she brings the toy to her nose, Ellie can faintly smell JJ’s scent. She sighs. “Potato probably misses you like crazy.”

It was bittersweet, finding the stuffed elephant forgotten near Main Street on her way from Maria’s. The toy was in worse shape than it had been at the farmhouse, riddled with dirt and the imprint of someone’s boot. She suspected that JJ had dropped it early in the day. Was he crying? Was Dina searching relentlessly for the blue elephant?

She stands, clutching Ollie in her hand, Joel’s words from her dream echoing in her mind. _You should talk to her, kiddo._ Would it be that easy? She had a solid reason to visit Dina... And, besides—Maria planned to inform Dina of Ellie’s return to Jackson sometime tomorrow. Wouldn’t it be better for her to let her know herself?

Ellie stares at Ollie momentarily before moving towards her door. “Okay. Wish me luck, Ollie.”

The streets are illuminated by the streetlights, and the night is filled with the happy screams of children playing. Older residents shuffle past her, waving in her direction when they recognize her, too intent to have some fun at the Tipsy Bison than talk to her. She’s thankful for that. She’d rather not be confronted by people she doesn’t know well.

The walk from Joel’s backyard to Dina’s new residence is short. It takes Ellie twelve minutes to arrive on her porch, heart pounding, hand tightening around Ollie, threatening to squeeze the stuffing out of him. The blinds are drawn but the lights inside are on. Good, she’s home.

“Okay, Ellie, you can do this. You can do this,” she mumbles to herself, staring at the home’s front door. “You‘ve faced hunters, cannibals, Scars, the WLF... and, look—you’re still alive! This is just Dina. Just Dina. Dina isn’t going to kill you. She might want to, but she won’t. Just knock on the door. Just... ugh! Why is this so _hard_!?”

When she lifts her mutilated hand, remaining fingers clenched in a makeshift fist, it shakes violently. Ellie clutches her wrist, Ollie still in her grasp, in attempt to calm her nerves. She almost feels like a stranger. But that was her fault, wasn’t it?

In and out she breathes, rhythmically, just as Dina had instructed her during her attacks. She could feel one coming on—images of Dina’s unconscious form in Abby’s arms, knife to her throat, face bloodied, flash across her mind’s eye; her smile, after it all, when they returned home; the twitch of her brow in her sleep, alerting Ellie that she was having a nightmare; the urging for Ellie to stop looking like she just saw a ghost and come hold their son; the final night she saw Dina, tears in her eyes as she left for California, not once looking back.

No way in Hell would she want to see Ellie. Not after everything she had put her through for her own selfish gain.

And yet she knocks.

Three weak knocks against Dina’s door— _tap, tap, tap!_

Her heart threatens to burst. There’s a ringing in her ears and her palms are slick with sweat. She continues to breathe just as Dina had taught her. In through the nose, out through the mouth, certain to fill her lungs on each inhale.

The lock clicks, the doorknob jiggles, and Ellie fights the urge to run.

She holds out JJ’s toy, interrupting Dina as she begins to greet her visitor.

“I found this. Over by Main Street!” Ellie all but yells. “I figured JJ might want it back.”

The toy in Ellie’s hand begins to shake with the rest of her body. Her eyes hold Dina’s—Dina’s big, brown eyes, twinkling beneath the porch light. Her jaw is slack and she’s gone silent, surprise overtaking her. Ellie swallows, continues to breathe. In and out, in and out...

Dina blinks. Squints. Blinks again. Ellie spots something. Tears? Her suspicion is confirmed as the first one breaks loose and streams down her cheek, falling and staining the collar of her shirt.

“You absolute _idiot_ ,” Dina snarls, voice shaking.

Ellie is prepared for whatever comes her way—a slap, a verbal beat-down, the door to be slammed in her face. She deserves them all.

What she isn’t prepared for, however, is Dina’s arms winding around her neck, body flush against hers. Her face is buried in her shoulder, tears soaking through the fabric of Ellie’s oversized shirt.

In her daze, Ollie drops to the floor, and Ellie takes Dina in a desperate embrace.

“I’m home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ending is sweet and it honestly killed me writing it. many authors write dina shunning ellie when she returns, and i understand that standpoint. however, as joel said, you can’t just stop loving someone. you can only hate what they’ve done to you. next chapter, we’ll explore dina’s emotions further. i may even write a portion of it from her pov. would you guys be interested?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dina welcomes ellie into her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! this one took a long time to write. i found myself rewriting the latter half of the chapter many times as things weren’t flowing correctly. im still a bit iffy on how i ended the chapter, but you guys can tell me what you think! i also enjoyed writing from dina’s pov throughout the chapter. hope you enjoy!

The shower is steaming when Ellie enters it.

The hot water soaks through her hair and trickles down her body, it’s temperature burning her skin. It feels good, however, to have access to hot water after so long. She stands beneath the stream, eyes closed, allowing the water to rinse away the dirt and blood she had accumulated on her journey. She removes the shower pouf from its hook and fetches the liquid soap from the corner. She opens the soap container and squeezes a dime-sized amount onto the pouf. The floral scent overwhelms her—Dina had always been a fan of the array of scents women’s soap had, but her favorite had been peony and roses. How many times had Ellie made fun of her for not being a normal person and using normal soap? And how many times had Dina held her arm to Ellie’s nose, insisting she take a whiff? The scent had intoxicated Ellie from the start; she’d blush and shrug, telling her best-friend that smelling like a garden had no benefits, to which Dina chuckled that it did its job making Ellie blush. From then on, Ellie sought out bottles of peony and rose scented soaps on patrols to bring back to her best-friend, under the guise that it had been all she could find.

She scrubs the dried blood from her skin, watching the water turn red as it pours down the drain. At this point, she isn’t even certain it’s solely hers. How many infected had she run into on her journey home? How many hunters? Though she’d stuck primarily to the outskirts, staying far from the main roads, they were out there, and they were hostile.

If Dina had suspected that the blood staining Ellie’s skin wasn’t solely her own, she hadn’t mentioned it. Instead, she’d ushered the young woman inside, the silence between them deafening. She spoke minimally, insisting Ellie get herself clean. She set her up with the downstairs shower, a towel, and a change of clothes. Ellie didn’t ask why she’d had one of her flannel shirts lying around.

Things between them felt different, not that Ellie expected anything else, but the way Dina was treating her had been confusing. Her embrace was reminiscent of those Ellie would be met with in Seattle, specifically the way Dina had held her after Nora’s demise. Ellie continues to scrub the blood and dirt off of her skin, recalling the gentleness Dina had used when cleaning Nora’s blood off of her.

After scrubbing her body and hair clean, Ellie exits the shower and begins drying off with the supplied towel. She steals a glance at herself in the mirror—her short hair is in need of a trim. She begins to dress herself, taking note of how loosely her old shirt and Dina’s pants fit her body. Her stomach growls on cue. Ellie sighs.

She wanders out of the bathroom, peering around the home awkwardly. Everywhere she looks, she is met with memories of a simpler time. She recalls playing her guitar for Dina in the living room, informing the then-pregnant woman that she had read of music aiding in the brain development of unborn children. Dina had teased her, rolling her eyes and sarcastically commenting on how she wasn’t aware that her girlfriend could read books without pictures in them. But once the notes began, and Ellie softly sang, Dina had smiled warmly at her girlfriend. Ellie had sworn that she had fallen in love with Dina all over again that day.

Did Dina still hold those memories close to her heart?

Ellie follows the sound of a plate being removed from the cabinet and discovers Dina in the kitchen. She hums an unfamiliar song to herself and retrieves a container of spaghetti from beside the fridge. Ellie clears her throat.

“Oh, hey,” Dina greets her. She gestures for Ellie to take a seat at the table, and fetches a fork from the drawer. “I’m giving you some leftovers from dinner.”

“Thanks...” Ellie replies awkwardly, taking a seat at the table. She watches Dina, still humming, scoop a generous amount of spaghetti onto the plate. She brings the food to Ellie and flutters back into the kitchen.

“Let me grab you some water. One sec...”

Ellie takes the fork in her hand and twirls a bite of noodles on the prongs. Her stomach growls at the sight and smell of a home cooked meal. It had been so long since she’s had one. She shovels the food into her mouth.

Dina returns with a glass of water and sets it beside Ellie. Through her mouthful of food, Ellie mumbles another awkward thanks.

She eats her meal slowly, careful to chew each bite thoroughly. It wouldn’t do her any good to throw up on Dina’s kitchen floor.

Her eyes remain glued to her plate. She watches as the amount of spaghetti noodles becomes less and less, until finally, the plate is empty. She can feel Dina’s eyes on her, watching her with pity, with judgement. Would Dina assault her with harsh words once she had finished her meal? Or would the silent treatment continue? Would she allow her to return JJ’s toy before she returned home? Or would Dina insist on returning it herself?

Her questions remain unanswered. Dina only mutters a “Let me,” as she takes Ellie’s plate and fork to the sink. The water pours from the faucet as Dina rinses the spaghetti stained plate. Ellie plays with the remaining fingers of her left hand beneath the table, contemplating her next move.

“What are you doing?” she asks, the words leaving her without a second thought.

“Washing your plate,” Dina answers.

“No,” Ellie shakes her head. Dina was dancing around the subject. “I meant, what are _you_ doing? You haven’t said much to me, you’ve let me clean myself, and you’ve fed me. Why?”

The water from the faucet abruptly stops pouring. The glass plate clanks against the sink. Ellie doesn’t need to look to know that Dina is gripping the edge of the counter for dear life. “Did you not want a shower and food?”

“No, that’s not—”

“I didn’t have to do any of this for you, Ellie,” Dina’s voice raises, anger soaking her words. She marches over to the table and slams her hand down against it. Ellie flinches. “After what you did to me—to _us_ , I don’t have to do anything for you, no matter how shitty you look. But I did, and do you know why?”

There is a voice in Ellie’s head that screams for Dina to kick her to the curb, to leave her behind as she had months ago. Ellie tugs at her middle and forefinger of her mutilated hand. _Don’t hold back, Dina. I deserve whatever you throw at me._

Dina scoffs. She straightens her posture and folds her arms against her chest. “You can’t even shake your head? Come on, Ellie.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, annoyance thick in her voice. “You’re my best-friend. We have a son together, for fuck’s sake! You think I’d just wake up one day and stop loving you?”

Meekly, Ellie glances up at Dina. Her brow is furrowed, nostrils flared. Her mouth curves downward in a disapproving frown. She knows she can’t lie to Dina—but what _had_ she believed? Before her discussion with Joel (or, rather, her dream discussion with Joel), she couldn’t fault Dina for moving on had she chosen to do so. The woman had lived alone, caring not only for her child, but for the animals on the farm. She had been stuck with the chores once divided between two people. She had been left alone to yearn for the woman who warmed her bed at night.

Ellie nods.

“Incredible,” Dina shakes her head and snorts.

Ellie can feel herself rise from her seat. She stares at the wood flooring, watching her feet shuffle as she pushes past Dina. She can feel herself retreat into her shell—a shell she had grown the night she’d left for Santa Barbara. How could she be so stupid? Maybe it would have been better for Dina to believe Ellie had died out there. Maybe it would have been better if Ellie hadn’t shown up on her doorstep. She could have slipped out come morning, let Tommy or Maria or Liam break the news to Dina. She’d hurt for awhile, yeah, but she could learn to hate Ellie for everything she’s done. Dina would be free to stop loving Ellie and move on with someone else. She could live a happier life, one free of worry and trust issues.

But Ellie had returned, had hoped for something, and Dina had shown her a kindness she didn’t deserve.

She still _loves_ her.

So, why does that _hurt_ so much?

“I shouldn’t’ve come here,” Ellie shakes her head. She searches the immediate area for her backpack. Just _where_ had Dina put it? “Look, just—just give Olly back to JJ for me, okay? I’ll get out of—”

Fingers wrap around her right wrist, yanking Ellie back with force. She splutters, body crashing against Dina’s. She stiffens at the contact, and her eyes widen when Dina captures her lips in a kiss. Every fiber of her being screams, no voice louder than the other.

_No, it’s too soon, she doesn’t know what she’s doing!_

_Get out of there!_

_This is what you’ve wanted for so long!_

_Just let go!_

She melts. Her fingers tangle themselves in Dina’s hair, arms pulling the woman as close to her body as physically possible. She brushes her tongue against Dina’s bottom lip, and the other woman shudders beneath her touch. Dina’s hands take fistfuls of the back of Ellie’s shirt, wasting no time as she pulls the article of clothing off of her body. The kiss breaks momentarily, and Ellie observes as Dina’s eyes roam her naked torso hungrily.

The stitched wound at her abdomen is left ignored, and their hands fumble with their clothing.

~*~

There’s a familiar warmth in the center of Dina’s chest as she stares up at the ceiling.

She lay on her back, fingers intertwined and hands resting atop her abdomen. Ellie traces the scar at her shoulder, jagged from her own stitch work, with her index finger. Dina hums in delight, turning to smile at the woman lying beside her.

Ellie’s green eyes are focused on the scar across Dina’s skin. Her brow is knitted together, tip of her tongue barely peeking out between her lips. It’s a classic Ellie expression, one Dina discovered early on in their friendship. The woman is deep in thought.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Ellie’s tongue darts out to moisten her lips. She lifts her gaze to lock with Dina’s. Her shoulders rise and fall in a half-hearted shrug. “I’unno. Stuff.”

Dina rolls her eyes. “Stuff?”

“Yeah. You know—thoughts and... stuff.”

Dina shifts to lie on her side, disrupting Ellie’s gentle touch. She rests her cheek in the palm of her hand, elbow digging into her pillow. “Come on, El. We just slept together. You can talk to me, you know.”

A sigh escapes Ellie. “I know. I just... isn’t this... I dunno... weird?”

“I mean, do _you_ think it’s weird?”

Ellie purses her lips, dropping Dina’s gaze. She moves to tuck the loose hair behind Dina’s ear. “Kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“Well, yeah, I mean...” Ellie offers another shrug. She looks down at the mattress and begins playing with Dina’s fingers. “I haven’t seen you in months. I didn’t come here thinking I’d end up in bed with you.”

A silence falls between them. Dina can hear each breath Ellie takes. It’s a comforting sound, one she’d grown to appreciate in Seattle. For two days, Ellie would leave the theater in search of her revenge, leaving Dina behind to pray for her safe return. She’d never been certain that she’d believed in a god, but she always made sure to thank him when Ellie would return to her, still breathing. After Seattle, on the rare nights where sleep found Ellie, Dina had found solace in listening to her girlfriend breathe. It served as a reminder that she had lived, against all odds, and that she was still here with her.

“Why _did_ you come here?” Dina’s voice is barely above a whisper. Her glances down momentarily to observe Ellie’s fingers intertwining with her own against the mattress.

“Um...” She can tell that Ellie is retreating within herself, struggling to voice her emotions. She’d witnessed it countless times after Seattle. “I guess... to prove to you—no, not prove. Um...”

Ellie swallows. Her eyes meet Dina’s once again, sadness and regret evident. Dina waits patiently as she finds her words.

“I wanted you to know I was still alive,” Ellie finally forces out. Terror flashes in her gaze. Dina frowns. There’s more to it than that, but she refuses to push her.

The calming sound of Ellie’s breathing fills the silence for Dina once again. She and Ellie hold each other’s gaze, neither daring to so much as glance away for a split second. How long had Dina yearned for this? How long had she cursed Tommy’s and Abby’s names, blaming them for splitting up her family? In the end, it had been Ellie’s choice, and Dina had grown angry upon that realization. How could Ellie, someone who claimed to love both her and their son with all of her heart, leave her family behind and put herself in harm’s way? Dina hadn’t understood it then. She barely understands it now.

But she can’t deny the happiness she feels to have Ellie back in her arms.

“Did you get what you wanted?”

Ellie contemplates her answer for a moment. When she speaks, Dina’s heart sinks. “Yeah, I did.”

So, that was it, then? Joel’s murderer, the woman who’d crippled Tommy, shot Jesse dead, and nearly murdered Dina, was dead? After everything she had put her family through, the woman was finally gone?

A weight is placed on Dina’s shoulders. Ellie had killed before. Hell, she had killed before, but, somehow, this was different. She had cared for Ellie after she returned from the hospital in Seattle, stitched up her wounds and cleaned the mixture of hers and Nora’s blood from her skin. She had listened as Ellie informed her that she’d made Abby’s friend talk, held her as she sobs racked her body as she grew horrified by her actions. Ellie had been Ellie, then. The innocent, string bean girl Dina had watched steal jerky during her first week in Jackson. That Ellie had taken no pleasure in beating a defenseless woman to death.

This Ellie, however, had left her family to chase a rumor. This Ellie had traveled over a thousand miles to end the life of the woman who had ended Joel’s. She had to do it, she said, in order to become herself, again.

But, had killing Abby also killed Ellie?

Dina bites the inside of her cheek. At one time, she’d wanted what Ellie had wanted. But, now, with her son in the picture, she was content to leave that behind, even if it meant both Joel and Jesse went un-avenged.

“So, she’s gone, then?” Dina asks. “For good?”

“I think so,” Ellie answers.

Dina scoffs and tears her hand away from Ellie. “You _think_ so? This isn’t some stupid joke, Ellie! Did you kill her or not?”

Ellie blinks, confusion overtaking her. “Kill her?”

Dina wants to scream. She knows that Ellie is dense, but to be _this_ dense? “Yes, Ellie,” Dina groans and lies back on her back. She drags her hands down her face. “That’s the reason you ran off to California and _abandoned_ us.”

The venom drips off of her words. Dina peers through splayed fingers, watching Ellie recoil. She, too, moves to lie on her back. She tugs the comforter up and over her bare breasts. Dina can tell that she’s lost her comfort in being vulnerable around her, but it was no one’s fault but her own.

Ellie raises the arm closest to Dina. Dina’s eyes find Ellie’s hand, and a gasp escapes her at the sight. Ellie flexes the remaining fingers. Dina’s heart drops.

“Ellie—” Her voice falls as she grabs for the woman’s hand. Her fingertips ghost delicately along all that’s left of her ring and pinkie fingers.

“This happened in Santa Barbara,” Ellie explains, voice quivering with uncertainty. Dina chalks it up to Ellie still having a sliver of her old self within her. “Abby... she... I was on top of her, drowning her, and she—”

Dina can tel that Ellie is struggling with her admission. However, Dina struggles, as well. Was that how she did it? Did she watch as Abby struggled beneath the water, feeling her life leave her body beneath her hands? She closes her eyes but stays silent, allowing Ellie to continue. It’s the most she’s shared since her trip to the hospital.

“—she bit my fingers off.” Ellie finishes, clearing her throat. She tangles what fingers she has left with Dina’s. Her stumps twitch against Dina’s hand, as though Ellie’s brain still believes her fingers to be there.

“Jesus, Ellie,” Dina breathes. She kisses the back of Ellie’s hand.

Ellie clenches her jaw. She pushes the comforter off of her torso, and drags the pad of her thumb across the wound at her side. “This wasn’t from Abby. This was... ugh, it was really stupid. I got caught in some stupid trap by these slavers—”

“ _Fuck_ , Ellie!”

“—and a tree branch impaled me.” She gives a carefree shrug, as if she hadn’t been through Hell and back during her trip to California. She sucks in air, seemingly filling her lungs to capacity, and slowly exhales through her nose. After a short moment of silence, she speaks, “The slavers captured Abby and that kid she was traveling with. I... I let her loose and then threatened to kill the kid if she didn’t fight me. So... she did.” Ellie offers another shrug.

Dina listens, though her stomach twists when she mentions threatening a child. While, yes, it was the boy who had shot her through the shoulder with his arrow, it was also the boy Ellie had explained convinced Abby not to kill her. In a weird way, Dina owed him her life. How could Ellie have been ready to take his so easily?

“It’s funny, though. I had her, Dina. I had her under the water, drowning her, and I saw _him_. I saw Joel. I saw him on his porch, strumming his guitar with a cup of coffee beside him, and I...” Ellie’s eyes are wet. She struggles to keep the tears at bay, but her blinking sets them free. They stream down her cheeks. Her voice begins to shake. “I let her go. I fucking let her go. If I’d’ve killed her...” She presses the heel of her palm to one eye at a time, wiping her tears away. “That kid would’ve been alone, Dina. He’d’ve been left alone like Abby left me. Like Joel left Abby.”

And just like that, the weight on her shoulders lifts.

Ellie’s poor choice in words had left Dina to believe that she’d gotten the revenge she’d craved for so long. Never once had she suspected Ellie to let her live. Not after how _broken_ Joel’s death had left her.

“...I also realized that killing her wouldn’t solve anything,” Ellie continues, gaze settled on hers and Dina’s hands. She runs her thumb across Dina’s skin. “I’m still going to remember every detail of that day—his screams, the way he looked... I’m still going to have nightmares and panic attacks. I’m still going to have trouble sleeping and eating. Killing Abby... God, I was so stupid to think that would just... cure me, you know?” She sniffles, nose now congested. Her voice continues to quiver beneath the weight of her emotions. “Fuck, I was so stupid. I could’ve stayed, I could’ve—”

While still angry with her for leaving, there’s a voice in Dina’s head telling her that Ellie never would have discovered this on her own. Had she stayed, her mental state would have continued to decay.

But, now, Ellie is giving herself a chance to _heal_.

Ellie takes her hand back, covering both of her eyes as she cries. The sight makes Dina’s heart ache. It was rare to see Ellie cry—perhaps she thought it was weak of her to do so, or, perhaps, she was embarrassed to do so around Dina. The last time she had seen Ellie cried had been after discovering her, unconscious, in the mansion outside of Jackson, lying feet away from Joel’s corpse.

She wraps the woman in her arms, drawing her close to her body. “Come here,” she whispers, tangling her fingers in Ellie’s hair. Ellie buries her face in Dina’s chest. Dina traces patterns against Ellie’s scarred back with her free hand.

She holds her, even after she’s fallen asleep.

~*~

When Dina wakes, it’s with a start.

The warmth beside her has vanished, her arm left resting against the cooled sheet atop her mattress. Her heart sinks, begins to race, and her pulse thrums against her eardrum. Immediately, she is transported back to the nights at the farmhouse following Ellie’s departure. Often times, Dina would cry herself to sleep, clutching her son to her chest. She would wake the following morning, Ellie’s side of the bed cold and abandoned. She clenches her teeth, coaching herself mentally to steady her breathing. She gets out of bed, bare feet padding across the wooden floor. She stops at her dresser, shrugs into a nightshirt, and wanders toward the entryway of the bedroom. Her hand reaches out for the wall, steadying herself as she prepares for the worst.

“Dina?”

Ellie’s voice, soft and low, tinged with concern, prompts Dina to look over her shoulder. She’s emerging from the attached bathroom, tugging the oversized graphic tee she wears down her thighs.

A breath of relief leaves Dina. She places her hand over her heart. “Hey. Everything okay?”

“I should be asking you that,” Ellie murmurs. She reaches out for Dina’s hand, remaining three fingers curling around Dina’s. The bandages brush against Dina’s skin. She shudders. “Sorry if I woke you.”

Dina shakes her head, allowing her hand to fall to her side. “No, you didn’t. I just...” She gazes at the bed, covers pushed to the bottom of the bed carelessly. The sheets on Ellie’s side of the bed are wrinkled, proof of her stay. It all feels too good to be true; for months, she’d waited for Ellie to return, watching the horizon line every morning and every night. Upon her return to Jackson, she kept an ear to the local gossip. She’d caught wind of Tommy riding out every so often. Jackson’s residents believed it to be scouting ahead for patrols in order to make himself feel useful. Dina knew the truth—he’d ride out to the farm, hoping that, by some off chance, he’d find Ellie. Dina didn’t need to speak to Tommy to see the guilt on his face when they happened to pass one another. He was guilty for driving their family apart, and guilty when he failed to return with Ellie in tow.

“JJ cried for you, you know.” Immediately, Dina bites her tongue. The emotions she feels—anger, love, confusion, joy, hurt—battle it out within her head. The words tumble from her mouth before she can think. “I’m sorry. That—I shouldn’t—”

Ellie shakes her head. She bites at the inside of her cheek, glances away from Dina, unable to maintain eye contact. The moonlight partially illuminates the bedroom; Ellie’s face is captured in it, and the tears welling in her eyes glisten. “It’s okay,” she shrugs, resigned. Her hand falls from Dina’s, and the two stand in silence. The clock on Dina’s nightstand ticks, an audible representation of the passing seconds. Ellie sniffles and lets her head fall back slightly, as if to will her tears back into her eyes. “Um. How long did...”

Dina knows the end to the question. She gazes at Ellie solemnly. “Two weeks.” She swallows, willing the lump in her throat down. It doesn’t work. “He... missed you putting him to bed. I think he missed you... dancing around with him while I’d cook breakfast, too.” If she closes her eyes, the three of them are back on their farm. Ellie never left—she has ten fingers and no wound at her side; she witnesses JJ’s first steps, making sure to break out her Polaroid camera to capture the moment; she plays her guitar and sings for her family, JJ swaying side-to-side and Dina resting her head on Ellie’s shoulder; she sits on the porch in the evening and sketches the beauty of the countryside, a cup of coffee beside her solely for the smell.

Dina won’t deny the anger she feels towards Ellie, the resentment she has for Tommy, and the worry things can never go back to how they were. She thinks back on Ellie’s arrival, just a few hours ago, holding out JJ’s beloved toy, looking like a deer caught in headlights. A mixture of emotions had coursed through her body, time standing still, and all Dina could be was a decent human being. She’d prepared Ellie a warm shower, provided her clothing she’d stashed away during her move, unable to fully let go. She’d provided her a meal, because God knows she needed it, and, in the end, she gave in to her desires. In her anger, in her sadness, in her joy, and in her confusion, she’d kissed Ellie, undressed her in the entryway of her home. She’d led her upstairs, allowed her to touch her and kiss her in places Ellie knew made her scream, and in turn, she’d done the same. And after all was said and done, Dina lay in her bed, letting Ellie trace invisible patterns against her skin, and wondered just what the hell she was doing.

Why she’d blurted out that tidbit of information, Dina isn’t entirely certain. Her and Ellie certainly have much to discuss, but was the middle of the night really the time for it? And, after the night they’d shared? What even were they? Had they broken up when Ellie walked out the door, or were they still together, only shattered? The sudden arrival of the young woman hadn’t allowed Dina much time to think on such things. But, then again, all she’d done for the last few months was thinking. She’d only failed to answer such questions.

She watches Ellie push her middle and forefinger back with the palm of her right hand. Her eyes dart from Dina, to the floor, to the doorway, and back. It had been difficult to get into that head of hers after Seattle, and tonight is no different. Dina steps into Ellie, pressing her chest against hers, and tucks her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Ellie’s shoulders rise and fall. “I know. I just—can I see him?”

Her eyes widen, regret flashing across her face. Before she can backtrack, Dina nods. Ellie is visibly taken aback.

Wordlessly, Dina takes Ellie’s good hand in her own. She leads her out of the bedroom, walking a few steps forward before taking an immediate right. The door has been left ajar. She pushes it open, and the two walk into a room filled with toys and decorations from the farm. Against the left wall sits a crib, and, within, sleeps JJ.

Dina drops Ellie’s hand to gesture toward the crib. Ellie gazes at her, bewildered, uncertain. “Go on,” she urges Ellie in a whisper. “He’s not going to bite you, dummy.”

Ellie awkwardly rubs at her tattooed forearm. “I dunno. He bit you a few times.”

The lightheartedness of Ellie’s words, the joking tone, help Dina to feel at ease. Admittedly, she’s quite relieved that Ellie’s first interaction with their son since returning is while he is dead asleep. While she doesn’t fully believe that JJ wouldn’t remember his other mother, there is a voice nagging in the back of her mind, playing on her anxieties. She knows Ellie frets over similar thoughts, evident in her expression as she slowly walks towards the crib. Dina decides to indulge in the lighthearted exchange of words, if only to further ease their nerves.

“Unless you plan on breastfeeding, I think you’re safe.”

A breathy laugh escapes Ellie. “I’d rather never have to do that in my life.”

The young woman peers into the crib, green eyes widening at the sight of the sleeping child within. Dina observes, arms wrapping around her own body. She’s seen scenes like this, before—when Ellie would disappear from bed in the middle of the night, Dina would find her hunched over JJ’s crib, brushing his growing hair off of his face, and whispering sweet promises. Nothing has seemingly changed in the months Ellie has been gone.

“Hey, bub,” Ellie whispers, reaching into the crib. She takes the baby in her grasp and slowly pulls him out of the crib. He snores softly from Ellie’s shoulder. “It’s... it’s me, Ellie. It’s Mommy. You remember me?”

Tiny eyes flutter open, and the smallest of yawns leaves JJ’s mouth. He pushes away from Ellie’s shoulder, brown eyes gazing at her in wonder.

She looks to Dina, worry evident in her eyes. Dina smiles, tears welling in her eyes, silently urging Ellie to continue on.

“Yeah,” Ellie continues, bouncing her son, “Mommy is so sad she wasn’t here for you and Mama, but I’m back, now. And, guess what? I found Ollie! Yeah... Ollie missed you just as much as I did...”

From the doorway, Dina watches Ellie press her lips to JJ’s forehead. He grabs for Ellie’s shirt, taking fistfuls of fabric in his grasp, and makes a single noise.

“A-bah!”

His voice fills the room, his gibberish soaked in joy. Their son smiles wide, flashing newly grown teeth. Ellie’s breath catches, and her tears begin to fall. She isn’t certain when it happened, but Dina feels tears on her cheeks, as well.

“Oh man, Potato.” Ellie buries her face in JJ’s thick, black hair. “ _Shit_. Okay. Get ahold of yourself, Ellie.” When she pulls away, JJ does not dare take his eyes off of her. Ellie sniffles, and Dina puts a hand above her heart. “I’m gonna be here in the morning, bubba. And me and you? We’re gonna play. Does that sound good?”

“Mmbah!”

“Yeah,” she kisses his forehead once more, “that’s my buddy!”

Dina wipes the tears from beneath her eyes, running her palm along her cheeks to rid of any evidence. She sniffs, nose congested from her crying, and Ellie turns to her. Dina’s knees grow weak at the sight—she’d constantly worried if Ellie lay dead somewhere between Jackson and Santa Barbara, never to return. It’s all too much. Dina grips the doorframe to balance herself.

“Why don’t you, uh, bring him to bed with us?”

“Really?” But she doesn’t await an answer. Ellie instead grins down at their son, and happily marches out of his bedroom. “Come on, Mama.”

Dina’s legs wobble beneath her as she follows Ellie into her bedroom. Suddenly, it’s all becoming too much for her to process. Things felt somewhat normal since Ellie’s return, but it couldn’t be that easy, could it? She and Ellie still had things to discuss—what they were, what they mean to each other, what they both planned to do to make their relationship as strong as it once was.

Dina crawls into bed beside Ellie, lying on her side and resting her cheek against the back of her hand. JJ lies atop Ellie’s chest, snuggled into the crook of her neck as she rubs his back and whispers promises into his hair. All at once, her emotions bubbled to the surface. She fights back her tears, bites back the anger, swallows the joy. She doesn’t want to ruin the moment between mother and son.

“Get some sleep, Ellie,” she forces through a yawn. She turns her back to Ellie and closes her eyes. “It’s late.”

Ellie doesn’t hide her disappointment when she mumbles, “Yeah. Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dina’s a very confused woman and doesn’t know what to do! also, i may or may not include this in a later chapter, but i headcanon that jj’s full name is jesse joel williams. dina wanted to make sure he was just as much ellie’s son as hers and jesse’s :’)


End file.
